A sermon by Senior Minister John B. McCall, December 21, 2008
John 1:1-18
Ernest Hemingway’s book, A Movable Feast, was published three years after his death in 1961. It told in some detail about his early experiences as a budding author in Paris.
He wrote in one place:
Sometimes when I was starting a new story and I could not get it going, I would sit in front of the fire and squeeze the peel of little oranges over the flames and watch the sputter of blue they made. I would stand and look over the roofs of Paris and think “Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence you know. So finally I would write one true sentence that I knew, or had seen or had heard someone say. If I started to write elaborately, or like someone introducing or presenting something, I found that I could cut scrollwork or ornament out, and throw it away, and start with the first simple declarative sentence I had written.
That’s wise advice. The key to this complex world often rests on finding one true sentence.
An English teacher will cut through all the split infinitives and dangling participles in our complicated language and search for the subject and verb, the one true sentence, and build from there. The experienced counselor will listen to your complicated tale and all its tangents, and then skillfully offer one true sentence, and build from there.
And of course, when I’m frustrated that the message won’t come together, it’s usually because I’m thinking too broadly, in vagaries and generalities. I go back to one single, true sentence, and build from there.
This is certainly true at Christmas time when the real meaning of the holy day is obscured by all sorts of stuff, drawn like metal filings to a magnet.
So let’s turn to the Good News in scriptures – the four Gospel accounts of Jesus Christ, Son of God, and savior. I just read the one true sentence as the author of John’s Gospel understood it:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God… The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot put it out. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth. (John 1:1, 5, 14)
That’s actually three sentences – but you get the drift. That’s the Christmas story according to John: no angels or shepherds, stars or stables, as in the Gospel of Luke; no naming of 42 generations of who begat whom, or of the Wise men from afar, as in Matthew.
In this Christmas story John doesn’t refer to presents, ribbons, wrappings. There are no Christmas trees, Santa Clauses, Grinches, or charge cards; no ornaments or candles or tinsel.
We see here none of the layers that have been gathered around the birth of the Christ child over the centuries. Instead, there’s one true sentence, built on one true Word, Jesus Christ:
In Jesus whom we call “the Christ” God became human, dwelt among us, and called us to the grace-filled and abundant life.
That’s the Christmas story according to the Gospel of John.
Certainly, I love the rich additions from Matthew and Luke. They and Mark are called the synoptic Gospels – which means literally, “to see together.” There’s a harmony and style they share easily and we blend their stories together without worrying about what came from where.
Then we often add the ancient customs and traditions that have grown up around Christmas over the years. We’d be the poorer without them – except for the dreadfully repetitive carol “the Little Drummer Boy.” And I draw the line at the depiction of Santa Claus kneeling at the manger. Anyway…
But the fourth Gospel has a unique place in the story. The author of John states in Chapter 20, verse 31: “[these events] are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.” In general, we can say the synoptics are written for Jews who are open to the new Way of discipleship to Jesus. They are rich in references to the Old Testament laws and prophets.
John, however, has the tone of both a poet and a Greek philosopher, writing for people far beyond boundaries and regions. You may remember the philosophy of Plato who suggested that the things we see on earth are imperfect copies the true Forms that reside only in the heavens. These ideal forms are perfect and unchanging. For example, we may see something with a flat wooden surface and four legs. We call it a table. Plato suggests it is a rather imperfect copy of the perfect Form of table.
The Gospel of John does something like this: “In the beginning was the Word,” means the Word is the perfect heavenly Form. You and I, all humankind, is created in the image of God. And we’re rather imperfect copies of the ideal Form.
So John’s claim is that in Christ, the perfect Word, God became flesh and lived among us. It was a powerful idea, an astounding idea. The perfection of heaven embodied on earth because God willed it. And further, by this deed, the relationship between God and humankind was changed forever. THE WORD BECAME FLESH AND DWELT AMONG US, FULL OF GRACE AND TRUTH.
The author of the Gospel wanted there to be no mistake: The Word became flesh; God became human; light triumphed over darkness. And it can’t be put out.
In our United Church of Christ Statement of Faith we say “In Jesus Christ, the Man of Nazareth, our crucified and risen Savior, God has come to us and shared our common lot, conquering sin and death and reconciling the whole world to its Creator.”
That’s the meaning of Christ as John has written it. And that’s the meaning of Christmas for us. That’s the meaning of the whole Christian story (another true sentence):
• Never again can it be as though God were distant and separate.
• Never again will there be an impassable chasm between the divine and the human.
• Never again will the darkness of sin be the final word.
But there’s more. Many years ago, (like 35?) when I was beginning ministry I heard a speech by Dr. Carlyle Marney — a Southern Baptist, raised in Tennessee, who then served for years in Texas.
He captured the Spirit of John’s Gospel when he paraphrased its opening words. He said:
This is the basis of our preaching, and the fact of our redemption:
that the Word – not silence,
became Flesh – not concept.
And Grace – not merit,
Ministers to Faith – not knowledge,
In such a way that we may know that we are an incarnation, too.
Hear that: WE ARE AN INCARNATION, TOO! That’s one true sentence we can carry with us this morning. God came to us in Jesus Christ not for God’s sake but for our sake.
And in the life and spirit and example of Jesus, we encounter one life, filled to overflowing with God.
Because of Jesus Christ, we have a particular encounter with God; not the Christian God – but the one God; the God of Jesus, certainly, and the God of Abraham and Sarah and Hagar, of Mohamed and Buddha and Confucius and Loa Tzu, the God whose spirit and power and grace cannot be contained by human words or human story.
In becoming one of us, God chose to live as we live, rejoice as we rejoice, suffer as we suffer, die as we die. And when we can’t comprehend the fullness of God as our Creator, we can begin to understand Christ as our Brother. We are an incarnation, too.
Because of this the Gospel of John can say the light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot put it out. Darkness always threatens the Light, but we know even one candle can’t be overwhelmed. This age is as dark as any, as we struggle with the house of cards we’ve built with greed and privilege.
Amidst all the clamor and hype, remember once true sentence, the heart of Christmas:The Word continues to become flesh and to dwell among us; so that in you and in me, God is made manifest.
Amen.